Sayings
by aliasaurorasaccounthasmoved
Summary: There are so many things that can be said in 300 words. Chapters 7 and 8: Ed never misses a chance to mope about Al's armor state.
1. In a month from now

**Just what it says on the tin. This will be a collection of three-hundred word drabbles, spanning all times in the lives of the characters, all inspired by the theme of "sayings." I plan to update weekly, or until I run out of ideas. **

**I don't own FMA.  
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"I'll be back after all this 'promised' crap is over," he told her, "so bake me an apple pie and keep it warm."

Winry stared blankly for too long. _He's leaving!_ she shouted at herself. _Speak! _Finally, the words came—and thank God they weren't stupid ones to make her look like a fool— "I will!" But it was a moment too late, and they had already all but disappeared into the darkness. Winry took her anger with herself out on Edward as she was heading back inside a step behind Pinako. "Idiot," she muttered. "It's springtime. Apples aren't even in season."

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There's a saying in Resembool, something like "Can we put this off until a month from now?"

It is mocking the notorious _Resembool Crier, _of which it is said that news comes a month after the fact in the_ Crier. _To say "let's put this off for a month" is to say "I have no idea what's going on [let's wait until this news comes out in the _Crier_]."

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Spring rain, summer rain? Who _cared_ which one?

With her hood pulled down so low it almost obscured her vision, and flecks of mud splashing up from her shoes onto the backs of her knees, Winry marveled at the incredibly mundane conversations she heard in passing at the marketplace.

Didn't these people know that somewhere not so far away, people were fighting... maybe dying? Didn't they know that right now, at this very second, guns were echoing in the air, flames were blazing, and the gods of chaos were unleashing their fury on Central City?

_I guess they'll find out in a month from now,_ she thought sarcastically.

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The next time something was needed from the market, Winry made Pinako get it.

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**Please review!**


	2. Winry is quite resourceful

"Hey, Al, look what I found in Dad's stuff!" Ed ran across the yard to show Al his finding.

Al looked astonished. "You're not s'posed to touch Dad's stuff! What if he _caught_ you?"

Ed smirked. "But he_ didn't _catch me. Anyway, he's not even here right now. I'll put it back! Look, it's a book of funny sayings. Some guy went around and collected them all into one little place, see? Want me to read you the most funniest ones? Mom and Dad won't be home till late anyway."

"Yeah!" Al patted the grass next to him. "What are they about?"

"Oh, just proverbs and stuff..."

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"Winry?" Pinako poked her head through the doorframe. Winry was sitting on the floor, playing dolls. The puppy had made herself comfortable on Winry's bed. "There you are! I need you to run over and bring the Elric boys here. It's time for dinner."

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"'If God lived on earth, people would break his windows'... That's probably true."

"I liked the one before it better." Al's stomach grumbled. "Hey, Brother, when is Mom coming home again?"

"Ed! Al!" Winry came sprinting across the lawn, followed by Den. "C'mon, guys, it's dinnertime! You're eating at our house tonight!"

"'A dog is wiser than a woman; it does not bark at its master,'" Ed read.

Winry screwed up her face at him. "That's really sexist! What are you reading?"

"It's a book of proverbs," said Ed nonchalantly.

"Well, give it to me!"

"No."

"Give it to me or I'll hit you."

"With what? You don't even have anything."

Winry picked up a rock. "Now I do."

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Ed learned a valuable lesson that day about sexism.


	3. Some jokes just aren't funny

The worst part was yet to come. If Winry didn't know better as a mechanic and as a doctor, she would be terrified for Ed....

Okay, she was terrified.

Automail surgery was dangerous and invasive! He could get an infection! He could fall deathly ill from a cold, with all the immunosuppressants he was taking!

_He could..._ Winry's mouth went dry at the thought... _He could die right on the operating table._

No, no… Ed couldn't die. He was too stubborn.

But on the off chance that he _could_, Winry spent as much time as possible with him. Mostly when he was asleep, since he scolded her if she tried to sit by his bed when he was awake; but still, she found reasons to be there.

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"Ed," Winry whispered, padding into the patient room on her sock-muffled tiptoes. The contents of the tray in her hand rattled. "Are you awake?"

He grunted in response, keeping his eyes closed.

"Do you feel well enough to sit up and eat?" she asked.

"Food," he said. Winry took this to mean, "yes," and brought herself and the tray inside.

Ed shifted and pushed himself to a sitting position with one hand. He never allowed anyone to help. "What's that crap?" he asked weakly, eyeing the tray in her hands. "Applesauce and overcooked rice? C'mon, look at me. Don't I look like I need some steak, a burger... something?"

"You know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away," Winry reminded him.

Ed scowled. She was so annoying. "I'd eat a thousand apples if you'd go away."

"Oh," she said. Just one unemotional syllable. She carefully locked the legs of the tray in place and set it over him, making sure not to knock anything over.

Then, without looking at him, she left.


	4. A cause for celebration

_Ding-dong..._

Impatiently, Sara Rockbell tapped her foot. The basket on her arm rattled a little, so she stopped that, worried she might break the bottles.

"Look at you!" she couldn't help exclaiming when Trisha finally answered the door. "I'm home sick for a week and look at this, look at how you filled out!"

Trisha's hand rested on her swollen stomach and she smiled. "I guess so. Anyway, you look like you're barely over that flu. Come on in and have some tea; I just made some." She opened the door wider and stepped back. "So, what's in the basket there, Sara?"

"I brought you a present! Here, look." Sara held it out.

Pulling back the cloth that covered the basket, Trisha read the label aloud: "'Sparkling Cider.' Are we celebrating something?"

"Only the amazingest luck _ever_!" Sara gushed. "I'm_ pregnant_!"

Trisha was so delighted, she nearly dropped the cider. "_Wow_! Our babies will only be a few months apart!"

"I know! Isn't it great? I'm so excited! Ever since I was little I had this planned out: I'm going to have two girls, and the older one's name will be Winry, and the younger one will be named Mina. Or Misa."

"What if they're boys?" Trisha asked.

Sara waved a hand. "I'll name them Fred or George or Bob or William or something. I'm not really concerned. I want daughters!"

Trisha smiled. "Personally, I don't have a gender preference. I'm just glad, you know; it's amazing that I get to carry his child."

"Do you have names picked out?" Sara asked curiously.

"What's in a name?" Trisha quoted rhetorically. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"But you must have some idea of what you're going to name him or her," Sara pressed.

"Of course! If it's a girl, probably Angeline."

"Pretty! And if it's a boy, then...?"

"Ah... I think... maybe Edward."


	5. People aren't quite sane at nighttime…

**AN: Absolutely no timeline for this one. Maybe it's one of those scenes The Cow forgot to put in the manga…

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Middle of the night, but naturally there were still sounds issuing from downstairs. As he padded down on sock-covered tiptoes, Edward wondered if Winry _ever_ slept.

"Hey," she called before he was even in the room. "Is that you, Ed?"

He stopped in the entrance. She was sitting at her worktable, facing away from him, working on some irrecognizable part of his arm. She was slouching—doubtless exhausted—there were bags under her eyes, and her hair was in utter disarray. Still, the thought of touching her made his mouth go dry. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I have eyes in the back of my head."

He stepped into the room and leaned on the table, careful not to touch anything or knock it over. "Of course. How could I forget?"

"What brings you down this late?" she asked.

"Couldn't sleep. It's easier to fall asleep on a metal arm than on nothing."

"I'll finish this soon," she promised.

Ed stood behind her and rested his head on her shoulder. "What are you doing to it right now?" he wondered.

Winry froze. "Nothing as long as you're gonna be breathing in my ear like that," she said evenly.

"Is it… distracting?" he whispered as his arm sneaked around her waist, unabashedly pulling her closer.

There was a long silence. Then… "Yes."

His lips barely brushed the skin of her neck… once, twice. "Should I stop?"

"Probably."

He stilled, surprised by her answer.

"Well, nothing's gonna get done, you know."

"Hmm." He turned his face to her skin and inhaled slowly. "True. I'm not so concerned, though."

"Then you won't be able to leave as quickly."

"Maybe I want to stay."

"Or maybe you'll change your mind in the morning."

"Likely."

"It must be a full moon," she said finally.


	6. Everyone has a story to tell

Edward and Alphonse disagreed on many things, mostly about whom Ed should or shouldn't punch, but one thing they did agree on was that it was tiring to constantly have to explain why they only paid for hotel rooms with one bed.

From the time Ed was eleven to the time Ed was sixteen, they must have explained a thousand times how Ed had lost his right arm and left leg in the Eastern Rebellion, and why Al was never hungry at mealtimes and liked to sleep on the floor. And when those excuses didn't work, Ed and Al had to start over and explain an even MORE tedious story, and an emotionally loaded one at that. The reactions they got were occasionally interesting, though—not everyone had a panic attack and tried to kill them like Rose had.

Some were full of questions and curiosity, which was fine by the Elrics. They were a pair of child geniuses, "prodigies," and they knew the answers to most questions, but they also knew it was okay to say, "I don't know."

Other people were more interested in being sympathetic and calling them "you poor boys." This grated on the Elric brothers' nerves, especially Ed's. It was okay when Izumi did it, because she was their teacher and she knew them before they were like that, but when strangers did it, it was degrading.

The people that empathized were most interesting. They were the ones who would tell their own stories—Al especially loved to hear these tales. People who'd lost their own mothers young, or who'd made similar choices—made similar mistakes.

Some people didn't tell a story, but one was there. Those people shook their heads, stared away at a memory, and just said, "Be careful what you wish for."


	7. Birthday Part One: Blue Eyes

**Part one of a two-part piece. Both are exactly 300 words, hence the split. Sorry if the ending of Part One seems a little abrupt.**

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"Why's it so hot in here?" The young man slumped and propped his chin on the bar. "This day already sucks enough without the hot."

"Maybe it's because you're drinking," suggested Aleina gently as she poured another customer a beer from the tap.

The man nodded in placid agreement and followed her with his eyes as she delivered the drink and came back over to him. "You're very pretty, Miss Bar Girl."

Aleina pressed her lips together. "My boyfriend thinks so too."

He waved a gloved hand lazily. "It's cool. I wasn't hitting on you. You just remind me of someone."

"A friend?"

He hesitated. "…Yeah."

"You wish it was something more?" Aleina guessed.

He shook his head slowly, staring straight ahead at her waist. Aleina stepped out of his immediate line of sight, and his eyes didn't follow. She figured he simply couldn't be bothered to move them up to her face—or any other part of the room for that matter. "'The beauty of life is easy to find. No lies, no guise, just sweeping blue skies and her bright blue eyes.' I wrote that, but I'm not a poet or anything."

"Love can be inspiring," Aleina agreed.

"I'm not good enough for Winry."

Aleina pushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes and leaned on the bar. "Might the girl problem be why 'this day sucks'?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I've resigned myself to that."

A female customer approached the bar, pink-faced and continually glancing back at a group of three more young ladies her age, standing a few feet away and giggling hysterically. Aleina held a finger at the blond man in front of her and told him to "Hold that thought."

"Can I get—um—" The girl turned even redder and glanced back.


	8. Birthday Part Two: Secrets

**Part two of two. I think the ending to this one is abrupt as well. Ed just isn't sober enough to say anything particularly eloquent. :)  
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The girl's friends made a flurry of incomprehensible gestures that seemed to indicate encouragement. "Er, can you give me… I mean… wait, no, that's right—Can you give me an, um…" She giggled, then continued: "a… Screaming… Orgasm?" The girls behind her burst out laughing like hyenas.

Smirking, Aleina merely asked what flavor liqueur.

She then refilled the blond man's drink on his request (he was having screwdrivers) and came back to continue talking to him, since he looked like he could use some conversation. "So it's not the girl who's got you down. Do you want to talk about what it really is?"

He stared at his drink without lifting his head. "Today is my brother's birthday."

By his dejected tone, Aleina's first thought was that the brother in question was dead. This was further confirmed by the man sighing and continuing with, "He should be sitting right next to me right now, getting plastered."

"How old…?" Aleina ventured.

"Al is eighteen today." He sat up straight, picked up his drink, gulped some down, and made a face. "He told me I was an idiot for moping about it." He held up a dissenting finger. "But I disagree! I am an idiot for many other deep, profound reasons. For example, why in hell did I order this cocktail? It's orange. That's a gay color. I bet everyone here thinks I'm gay. I'm not gay. Take this back."

"Orange isn't a gay color," Aleina contradicted as she took the drink from him and disposed of its contents.

The young man grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Why can't your brother be here?" Aleina asked.

"Can't tell you," he responded, shaking his head.

"That's fine. Everybody has their secrets."

"Whoever thought of that everybody-has-secrets thing must have been a pretty smart guy."


End file.
